


They Say We're Killer Queens

by Titlark



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood Drinking, Human!John, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Vampire!Brian, Vampire!Freddie, Vampires, human!roger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24324814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titlark/pseuds/Titlark
Summary: Hundreds of years ago, all of humanity was struck by a catastrophe which allowed creatures which until then lived in shadows to come out, take over the world and bring human race under their control.Now, young vampire Brian May, a passionate human rights activist, is trying his best to help improve their living conditions and pass a law that would give people right for a decent life. With the help of his husband Freddie he discovers, however, that high ideals might not always be the only thing you need for such task.Aka Brian is a blood-sucking softie, Freddie is just rolling with punches, Roger is so done with all the things vampire and John has trouble understanding what the actual f**k is going on. Including lots of cats and a peculiar chicken.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Comments: 56
Kudos: 98





	1. Good Evening Britain!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MacandLacy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacandLacy/gifts).



> Warning: I know I've already written a vampire story before, but this AU has nothing to do with that one, there are different rules for vampires and a different overall society (you'll find out soon enough)  
> Please, enjoy :-)

Ivy and ferns grew through crevices of an old winding stone path, which led directly to the colossal structure of a great mansion in Neo-Georgian style. Two-storeys high with eight bedrooms, a pedimented studio wing and a large bay window as a notable feature. It loomed proudly behind creaky iron gates, while its large garden remained still mostly hidden behind a high wall flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in crimson, swaying gently to the chilly autumn wind. At its threshold stood the delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding silence.

The sun had set about an hour ago and a soft light from starry skies gave the house spooky, almost unnatural glow.

Freddie jumped awake when his alarm set off and he wasn’t particularly happy about it. He hated, and that’s worth repeating, please – he hated getting up from his coffin this early, but he’d promised Brian he’d watch. So...

Slowly, Freddie sat up and stretched his arms to get his undead body moving and mentally prepared himself for a new night.

His steps as he slowly and sleepily walked downstairs to the kitchen, wrapped in the silk kimono, were soundless, due to his vampire nature and fuzzy slippers, but still, several cats joined him immediately under the staircase, rubbing against his ankles. 

“Why, hello, darlings,” he smiled. “Are you hungry? Well, are you, Delilah? Are you? Don’t worry, dinner’s coming right up.”

As if they understood, all the cats lined up by their bowls. Freddie chuckled at their excitement caused an opening snap of a can of tuna. Soon enough the room was filled by the sound of cats loudly grunting and chewing. 

Only then Freddie tended to his own dinner. He poured himself a generous glass of fresh B positive right from the fridge and heated it up in a microwave to 39 degrees just the way he liked it. Antique clock on the wall showed almost nine pm, so he quickly moved to the living room and turned on a tv.

The screen lit up with a well-known welcoming jingle. Just on time.

“Good Evening Britain!”

Freddie settled more comfortably and let two of the cats curl up on his lap.

“You’re watching Good Evening Britain, welcome to the news. Tragedy in Cornwall, Lord Melmoth found burned in a forest near Falmouth after an exposure to daylight, local authorities are investigating the event as a possible suicide. A fallout in Parliament, Prime Minister discusses a possibility of early elections and cabinet resignations. A new world record set, a man from Edinburgh walked across the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean in just three months under water. And after the break, we’ll be joined by Keith Buffercoat to learn some of his delicious recipes – welcome to another episode of Pan of Platelets. But now, back to the studio. It’s Friday, 18th of September 2673, live from television centre in London and this is Good Evening Britain! Our lovely host Amelia Slifer is going to talk to a former global superstar guitarist turned human rights activist Brian May about his recent visit to a blood farm. Together with him on the sofa Norman Sheffield, a CEO of Sanguia, the largest producer of blood products in Europe, suck fresh, suck healthy. All yours, Amelia!”

“Thank you, Jared,” Amelia smiled and her long, pointed fangs glistened in the spotlight when she turned her head to her two guests. “And welcome, gentlemen.”

“Good evening,” Brian smiled while Sheffield just nodded.

“Now, Brian, let’s start with you. You’ve left your active career as a musician to fully participate in activities of Team Human campaign against common practices of blood farms. Can you tell us a reason for a such a drastic decision?”

“I... I simply think it’s an important thing to do, and really something we need to talk about,” Brian started smoothly, brushing a stay curl away from his face. “We all come from humans, they are our past and our future, and we simply need to see them as more than a source of blood. It is necessary to question the conditions they live in and make a significant improvement of those. They deserve respect, all living things do, and it’s our duty to take care of it.”

“Norman,” Amelia turned to Sheffield with a bright smile, “as a CEO of Sanguia you’re aware of the accusations Team Human makes against your company. Could you elaborate your point of view? Is Sanguia planning any significant changes when it comes to treatment of humans?”

“Firstly, let me emphasize this isn’t only about Sanguia,” Sheffield said, “also other companies became targets of these activists. Hemextra, Erythrocorp, Plasmalight, we’ve all received sharp and unfair public critique which in my opinion fails to understand the actual reality of human husbandry. We appreciate all the feedback we get from our customers, and our products belong to the very best on the market, top quality full blood without any additional colouring or flavours.”

“I’m not talking about your merchandise, Sheffield,” Brian said, and his voice shook, “I’m talking about the thousands of tortured souls you keep confined and drained for profit. What have I and the rest of Team Human seen in blood farms of Sanguia surpassed everything I’ve expected to find. We saw them locked in cages so small they could barely move, pricked with blood catheters day and night, injected with erythropoietin and forming factors, fed with trash and protein mash, used, abused and exhausted to death.”

“This is highly exaggerated,” Sheffield didn’t lose his professional, detached tone for even a second. “What you and your Team do not realize is that we simply cannot look at humans from a vampire standpoint. They don’t need the same living conditions as we do – what do you want to do, give each one of them their own bedroom?” He made a pause to the laughter of the audience to settle. “They are not us,” he added sharply. “They’re happy the way they are, I assure you.”

“Did you try ask them?” said Brian coldly. 

“Did you?” Sheffield countered with a smile. “They won’t answer. However, our company employs experts specializing in human needs to make sure they’re fully met. There is no mistreatment. We make the best possible compromise between taking care of our humans and duty to bring enough blood for everyone. Our society can’t return to chasing our food around a forest. Progress is impossible to stop.”

“That’s an interesting question,” Amelia turned to Brian, “could you actually talk with any of the humans?”

Brian frowned, looking somewhere around his left knee. “No, I couldn’t. But I believe with proper care-“ 

Sheffield let out a snort which made Brian hiss in anger.

“Excuse me?” Brian tensed. “If you find that funny, maybe you can tell everyone what happens when a human isn’t producing enough blood anymore?”

“There are thousands of humans in the farms,” Sheffield said. “Some of them get sick or old, that’s life. And in cases when treatments prove insufficient, we have to reach for euthanasia. At that point it’s a mercy for them. But those are individuals, unimportant in the scale of larger population.”

“They don’t matter to you at all, do they?” Brian’s fingers twitched while he spoke quickly. “This isn’t about a population. It’s about caring about all living things, whatever they might be. Humans are hurt, mistreated, abused and scared – and they feel all that. They have feelings, you know. And any creature that has feelings is worthy of respect and care.”

“They’re humans, May, they don’t have feelings the way we do,” Sheffield smiled like talking to a little child. “There’s a reason why we stand on the top of a food chain. They’re a half-baked matter of potential vampires, that only gets developed by being sired by one of us, but until then... You’re giving them too much credit. There’s a very respected study conducted by our scientists, which questions if humans are even capable of feeling pain. Experiments prove they are not.”

Brian’s already pale skin somehow got even paler. “Then the experiments are wrong,” he said sharply, “because despite how inconvenient it is to you, humans are like us. They have feelings, they can feel pain. It would be illogical to assume they don’t aspire to live a good life. Life at your farms causes them physical and mental pain, why do you think they’re so different?”

“Because they are, everybody with functioning eyes can see that. This is nature, the stronger rules over the weaker species.”

“It’s not about species,” Brian cut him off. “This is about a soul. About each and every one of lives which deserves to be lived in dignity. There is no excuse for keeping them under the conditions you do.”

Sheffield sighed but his voice sounded firm. “I have my duty regarding vampires of the world to bring food to their tables for a price they can afford. It would be lovely to indulge your soft feelings, but I assure you we’re doing enough to keep our humans in agreeable conditions to ensure healthy and delicious products – because our customers are and always will be first and foremost on our minds.”

Brian already opened his mouth in a flash of anger when suddenly Amelia jumped right in.

“That was an incredibly insightful conversation, thank you very much, gentlemen, and have a great night. After a break, I’ll be joined by our country’s lead expert in water divination. But now, the weather. Stella, it’s all yours.”

“Thank you, Amelia. We have some cold few days ahead of us, the temperatures in south England-“

Freddie turned off the tv and leaned back, stroking Delilah’s fur, deep in thought.

“I’m home!” Brian called from the entrance hall of their mansion about an hour later. Freddie left his undeniable touch when it came to the interior. Designs of fruit and flowers were carved into the moulding and vases of blossoms gave off a cloying scent.

“In the living room!” Freddie called, but walked out just when Brian made it across the hall. “Darling, how are you?”

Brian didn’t answer right away, but his joyless face and hunched shoulders gave away just enough. Freddie clicked his tongue in disapproval and opened his arms in invitation which was gratefully accepted.

“Did you watch it?” Brian mumbled, hiding his face in a crook of Freddie’s neck. It smelled lovely.

“I did, darling. You talked wonderfully.”

Brian groaned. “God, I’ve made such a fool of myself. You should’ve seen how they looked at me, before and after, like... like...” he let go of Freddie and spread his hands in a furious helpless gesture. “... like I’m just some entertaining filler between nightly news and a weather forecast. Crazy Brian May.”

“But you were there,” Freddie reminded kindly and ushered Brian in the way of the living room. “Come, dear, I’ve prepared some of your favourites, you must be hungry.”

Brian had insisted on them getting their blood purely from small farms with maximum of ten humans to ensure the sources were well-treated. And despite this being quite expensive, Freddie complied. After all, they could afford it.

“They kept asking about you too,” Brian mumbled after he sat down to one of the comfortable chairs and took a sip of the fresh blood Freddie handed him. “But I said that on camera I wouldn’t go off topic.”

“Well, I’m a superstar, darling, of course everyone wants to talk about me,” Freddie wrapped his arms around Brian’s shoulders from behind and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Are you angry?”

“Do I look angry?” Freddie hummed and continued a trail of light kisses. “Why, dear?”

“I don’t know...,” Brian squirmed, “it just all got me thinking...”

“Darling, that’s a terrible thing for you to do.”

“I didn’t ruin it for us, did I?” Brian looked up, his hazel eyes wide and afraid of an answer. “Because... if this is all for nothing... then I could’ve as well stay and we could’ve... make it big.“

Freddie sighed and looked around the walls of their living room. They were adorned by golden discs proudly hung for every visitor to see.

“We did, Brimi,” he whispered. “Look around, we did. You left the band for something more important to you, these things happen. Aaaand... I’m not sure if you get the memo, darling,” his wink looked a bit cocky, “I’m Freddie fucking Mercury, a legend, and a god of our precious rock’n’roll all by myself. Not to mention we’re still married, and I love you... does it look like I’m angry? I have no reason to be. All this makes you more Brian – and the more Brian you are, the more I can love you, my dear. Don’t you ever change.”

“Do you believe I’m doing the right thing?” Brian asked. “Sometimes I wonder... does it have any sense? What if humans really...”

“It won’t have sense for sure if you give up,” Freddie smiled. “Otherwise – you have to find out.”

“But-“

“No buts,” Freddie scuttled around Brian’s chair once again and looked him straight in the eyes, “this isn’t a reason talking. You’re upset, dear, and you know it.” He smiled. “So, after all this moral support I so freely give, I think I deserve my husband’s thorough attention including but not limited to aforementioned husband’s large cock, his divine mouth and an otherworldly arse. And then I’ll need your opinion on a song or two. Leave the worries for tomorrow.”

Brian didn’t answer for a moment and Freddie got concerned, but then he noticed corners of his husband’s mouth were twitching in a hidden smile.

The next evening, Freddie and Brian were just getting up from coffins, changing from their dayclothes, when they both heard a soft noise and a little tappity-tap from a room upstairs.

For a moment both vampires stood and listened.

“He’s still awake,” Brian commented, and returned to unbuttoning his pyjamas. “I should go check on him. You fed him yesterday, right?”

“Of course, I did,” Freddie scowled.

Brian only shrugged in vague apology and walked out from their bedroom and upstairs. Freddie joined him.

“Do you think he was awake for a whole day again? That can’t be healthy.”

“Who knows, probably,” Brian said. “I read that’s what they do. Active during a day and asleep at night.”

“He’s not sleeping much during a night either,” Freddie mumbled. “When you were gone yesterday, he spent three hours banging at the door, and I couldn’t even reason with him. I feel like living in a haunted house – not fun. Though I admit it sounds exciting. I’ll stick to that story.”

“He calms down,” Brian stood with a hand on a door handle, his face unsure and hesitant. “He has to. He must know we won’t hurt him.”

“Well, don’t look at me, you took him from the farm.”

Brian bit his lip. “Alright,” he mumbled, “let’s do this.” Carefully, he pressed the handle and the door creaked open. “Deaky?” he called. “Please, come out, don’t be afraid... Deaky?”


	2. The Human, the Chicken and the Afterlife

John was lying on the cold floor, pale and weary. His eyes kept closing, no matter how much he tried for them to stay open, but to be honest... he wasn’t even trying that much. Not anymore. 

He wondered. He wondered if it made any sense to wonder at this point. No concluding would have any impact on what was to happen. His life didn’t belong to him. It hadn’t for a very long time...

There used to be a glimmer of hope, a long time ago, he remembered, all the way through his childhood spent in a breeding station. A hope coming from the method of how new vampires were made. After reaching the age of twenty-one, every human was taken to the Siring Centre and kept there for a month. Vampire couples looking to sire came and went, picking the most promising humans to make their offspring. The chances of being picked were slim, but everyone hoped, even John hoped... in vain. Nobody cared for the plain gangly thing shivering in his cage, too shy to make an eye contact with any of the sires.

One month. That was all.

It was just when John was getting thrown into his cage at Sanguia bloodfarm, bound, pricked and attached to blood-drawing catheters, when he understood a very important thing. He wasn’t enough to get a good life, how stupid to even think he ever could. This was what he’d been born to be, a source of blood, an easily replaceable nothing. To be honest, discovering that truth felt kind of good. Calming. He made peace with it. After all, when your life doesn’t belong to you and never did, it takes a lot from your chest. Hopes and dreams are a burden to carry. Good riddance. 

So, he just was, day after day, year after year. He got used to the sound of drawing machines around him, he got used to the lack of light and lack of movement. He got used to that weird mixture they’d all been fed. And he stopped counting time. What for. This was his life, and the only way for it to end, well... Nobody expected humans in bloodfarms to see an old age. The vampires never drew enough blood to kill the sources, but nevertheless, that kind of life irrevocably took its toll. John wasn’t stupid, he knew, he noticed people in cages around him grew weaker and disappeared, replaced by others. 

He wasn’t surprised when it happened to him.

Slowly, he started to notice how fatigued and dizzy he felt all the time. Maybe even fainted several times a day, he wasn’t sure. He felt his heart beating hard and fast, pumping the blood in his head with uncomfortable thuds. He couldn’t breathe, to a point of sharp pains on his chest. 

Yes, John wasn’t stupid, he knew this was the end. And a day came they opened his cage and took him away. There were some discussions among the vampires, but John didn’t listen and frankly, at that point he was barely conscious. He didn’t care. Why should he. And it was so much easier to escape into that sweet fluffy fog in his head and let the vampires just do their thing, as always. That was what he’d been born to be.

Though... something didn’t add up. Several days passed since they took him away, he assumed, and yet... He wasn’t dead. He’d balanced on the edge of consciousness, he’d been carried around, maybe washed or dressed. Someone pricked his vein with a needle – at least that was a familiar feeling. But when John had a peek, he realized the needle wasn’t drawing any blood from him, on the contrary, it almost looked like they gave it back. John was utterly, wholly confused and solved it by falling back asleep.

Somebody was pushing something down his throat. So... this was it. Poison. That’s how they got rid of those who grew useless. It tasted strangely, but not unpleasantly. He could actually get used to that. Funny thing to say about a poison. Anyway, John swallowed, and then drifted asleep with full stomach.

Once again, he woke up. The hazy fog in his head retreated, which was unexpected, and he felt stronger and more awake than before. The first thing he noticed when looking around was that he wasn’t in a cage anymore. That freaked him out a little bit. No bars around him, no catheters anywhere – what a stupid thing, he could go wherever he wanted this way!

John paused.

He could go wherever he wanted this way.

But that’s nonsense. That surely wasn’t allowed. But... weren’t they going to kill him? Of course, they were, so how much worse could it get? 

Slowly, really slowly... John sat up. He expected something to hold him back, some shackles he hadn’t noticed, but there was nothing. 

The room felt uncomfortably large after years in a cage. John had never seen a place with so much furniture and so many hues. He was used to sharp lines, no decoration and mostly grey or grey-already tones. But these walls were all burnt orange and reds. The furniture was rustic and dark, sprinkled liberally with vibrant cushions. 

Suddenly, John got scared. Freaked out by the bizarre place and everything that was supposed to happen and didn’t happen and everything that happened and wasn’t supposed to...

“No!” John screamed. “No! No! No!” He jumped up and ran to the door, banging desperately, without even knowing what it was he was trying to achieve. “No! No!” And then he just wailed and screamed, too overwhelmed to think.

It took a long time, but eventually he got exhausted and just slid off the door. It wasn’t clear if he fainted or fell asleep. Probably something between the two.

John woke up again, he lost count for just how many times that happened. Still in the same room. Somebody had moved him from the door while he’d slept, John realized, he was laid back on a long sofa with soft floral design and chubby upholstery. But not like that had never happened before, him being moved without his knowledge.

There was a table in easy reach from John’s sofa, and a tray of food on it.

John looked at it with a dose of suspicion.

He assumed it was food, not like he could be sure. He’d never seen anything like most of the stuff, but it smelled delicious. He maybe didn’t understand this situation, he didn’t understand at all, but that was a problem for somebody else, not him.

John let his feet down from the sofa and enjoyed the tickly feeling of fluffy hair of the Persian rug between his toes. 

On the tray, there was a bowl of something mushy he already recognized, and next to it a same-sized plate with weird orange triangles. Oh, yes, they gave him those before as well. They were poison. 

Or... weren’t they? He’d eaten them before and he was still alive, but why would they give it to him if not to kill him?

Was this even meant for him? John gave it a quick thought and then shrugged. If not, then they shouldn’t have left him alone with it. That one’s on them. Swiftly, he grabbed a spoon and the bowl, gulped down everything and licked it clean. He didn’t even realize how hungry he’d been. Then he put away the empty bowl and pulled the plate closer. The orange thingies tasted weird, but good, and John didn’t care. He felt juice dripping down his chin, so he wiped it with his hand and sucked it from there.

Then it came to him. Of course, ... He was dead already! That made perfect sense. And in that case... well, screw it. 

So, he finished the whole plate. His tummy started to feel uncomfortably full. He’d never eaten that much in his life. One would think after death one wouldn’t experience things like stomach-ache, John had to admit he felt kind of disappointed by this flaw of his afterlife.

Doesn’t matter. Decidedly, he reached for strange light-brown knobbly tubers and bit down. But... John blinked in surprise and slowly spit the bite out. The white-yellow inside was hard to chew and of a dull, soapy taste. He’d rather the orange ones, thank you very much.

But... what if he won’t get any anymore? What if those bad yellowies were the last food he’d ever be given? John dismissed the thought. This was his afterlife, and like hell he lets himself starve in it. So... he thought about it for a moment and then closed his eyes, wishing for more goodies.

Please, please, please...

He opened his eyes. Nothing. Nothing but empty plates. Ugh. Even his afterlife sucked.

John already wanted to crawl back on the sofa and sulk, when suddenly he heard a soft scratching, turned around so fast, he could hear his own neck crack and... John blinked.   
Then he blinked again, just to be sure. The whole concept of afterlife started to get a bit weird, that was for sure. John imagined it as sort of a dreamland where he could get whatever he wanted indefinitely, but it seemed the place had rules of its own and he simply had to go with it. Well, whatever.

But still, this was peculiar.

“Uhm... hello,” John’s voice was a bit raspy after not being used for so long.

The chicken stared back.

Yes, please. There was a real living brown-feathered fowl perching on an armrest, as if it judged whether to consider John interesting.

John blinked for the third time. Yep, still there. Without really thinking much about it, he took one of those dull brown-outside yellow-inside tubers and sent it rolling across the floor towards the bird.

The chicken regarded it with caution, tilting its head and John held his breath. But then, to his relief, his strange new roommate accepted the offering, jumped down from the armrest and started pecking at it.

John smiled and got down from the sofa. Up until this point he hadn’t even realized how weak and wobbly his legs felt. For now, he solved the issue by sinking on all fours to slowly crawl to the chicken’s side of the room. He could deal with walking some other time. 

The bird regarded him with a soft cluck but made no attempts to run or hide. For some reason, John felt a strange warmth in his chest upon that realization.

“Hello,” he repeated and smiled, sitting down in front of the chicken. He’d never seen anything even remotely similar to this before, but he liked it. It’s his afterlife anyway, nothing could hurt him, maybe except his still slightly aching tummy.

The chicken clucked again and left the tuber be to focus on John instead.

“I’m John,” he introduced himself. It felt like a polite thing to do. “Who are you?”

No answer, except the chicken tilting its head. John reached out and hesitantly touched the soft feathers, and his new friend welcomed the attention with some more clucking.

“I need to call you somehow,” John decided. “What about... Mr. Cluck? Or, oh, no... Mrs. Cluck- or Miss? Miss Cluck? Yes, what do you say?”

Miss Cluck didn’t really say anything but didn’t seem to have some grave objections either. She only, well, clucked some more and then jumped on John’s knee to get closer to his petting.

John giggled and buried his fingers in the bird’s soft feathers. 

“Do you think we stay like this forever?” he asked thoughtfully. “I mean... I like it much better than the farm and this is my afterlife – but now it’s your afterlife too. So, what happens if you wish for something else than I do?”

Miss Cluck seemed to think about it.

“But if it really was about wishes...,” John frowned while still petting his new friend, “then there would be more of those orange things. But there aren’t any. Ugh, my head hurts. Does yours as well?”

It didn’t really seem so.

John sighed and kneaded his forehead. He felt honestly betrayed by the fact that his weakness, headache and dizziness followed him all the way there. Wasn’t... wasn’t he supposed to feel good?

Miss Cluck watched him, jumped a bit closer and softly pecked his chin. John’s eyes filled with tears and he couldn’t hold the tall wave of emotions rising in his chest.

He felt grateful for his feathered friend and happy about leaving the farm for good, but he was scared, dizzy, and nauseous. He didn’t know, he didn’t understand, he didn’t... didn’t...

The door handle moved. Someone was there! John could hear voices. No, no, no, no, not good at all! No!

Under the table! That was the only place close enough to hide. Better than nothing. John pressed his knees to his chest, and his heart throbbed all the way in his head in silent panic. He didn’t want anyone to come, he didn’t want to go anywhere, he didn’t want to! Just leave him be! No! No!

“- admit it sounds exciting. I’ll stick to that story,” a voice said.

“He calms down,” another one replied. “He has to. He must know we won’t hurt him.”

What were they even talking about? John didn’t know. But he decided it couldn’t possibly mean anything good for him.

“Well, don’t look at me, you took him from the farm.”

Farm? John curled into a small ball and tried to press himself further under the table. No, no farm, he didn’t want to go to the farm!

“Alright, let’s do this.” 

The door handle creaked some more, and the door opened. John closed his eyes. No, no, no, no... 

“Deaky?” the smooth voice said. “Please, come out, don’t be afraid... Deaky?”

John knew the safest bet was to lay low. Pretend he wasn’t there. Be obedient and quiet, they will go away. He didn’t need to feel the cold draught, hear the almost inaudible cat-like steps or see smooth movement and graceful gestures of his intruders to understand they were vampires.

Why were there vampires in his afterlife? Why? Was it because... John shuddered and his nausea suddenly increased. He could taste bitterness in his mouth and a sticky cold sweat on his skin... was it because... after all that... he still wasn’t dead? What kind of a sick joke...

“Over there, under the table!”

Oh, shit. The steps felt closer now.

“What is he...”

“Oh, the poor dear...”

Brian felt his silent heart fall apart in a thousand little pieces when he saw the scared huddled creature shaking under one of Freddie’s decorative tables. He had to do something, say something...

“Deaky?” he tried. “Please, we won’t hurt you, come out.”

No response. Some of Brian’s unease had to mirror on his face, because Freddie stepped closer and took his hand.

“Why do you call him Deaky anyway?” Freddie asked curiously, and his large dark eyes showed nothing but a gentle concern. He knew how personally his husband took taking care of that human.

“His cage had the code DQY51,” Brian shrugged. “I had to name him somehow.”

“Without a doubt,” Freddie nodded and glanced at the coffee table. “At least he ate something, that’s a good thing, see? The porridge and oranges. But he left the potatoes. And the chicken.”

Brian slowly nodded and sent a hesitant glance to Miss Cluck, who was now perching on the edge of John’s table, glaring at the intruders.

“Freddie?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you let a chicken in here?”

Freddie frowned. “Well, it was in the book Elton gave us. Eating chicken, pigs or cows often helps humans get stronger after a draining. And as much as I love you and our new pet, darling, I’m not letting a pig or a cow into the house.”

“Do you think he’s too weak to eat it?” Brian asked, glancing between John and the very-much-unharmed bird. “We could drain it for him.” Carefully, he squatted to be on John’s eye-level. “Deaky? Do you want us to drain the chicken for you?”

John only whined and mumbled something.

Brian looked up in confusion. “Did you understand him?” 

“Not really, darling, but...,” Freddie hesitated, “I think humans don’t want the blood.”

“What? Why... what do you mean?” Brian stood up. This was getting harder than he anticipated, and he would do anything to make his human feel better, even if just to prove a point.

“Like cats,” Freddie explained his thought. “They don’t drink blood either. I tried.”

Brian frowned. “But humans aren’t cats.”

“They’re close.”

“No, they’re not! You can’t just give him a can of tuna, Fred, or... eh... could we do that?” Once again, Brian turned to John. “Would you like a can of tuna?”

No answer. Both vampires exchanged helpless glances. What now?

“So... we can just take the chicken and figure it out in the kitchen?” Brian guessed. “Maybe we can drain the blood anyway and then... do what you do with the tuna.”

“Cook it?”

“Probably...?”

Freddie nodded and reached for the chicken, but coincidentally, Miss Cluck had no intention to be drained or eaten. She jumped, clucking loudly, and flew fiercely right into Freddie’s face, claws and beak first.

“Freddie!” Brian exclaimed and grasped the chicken. “I have it!”

“No!” John suddenly darted from under the table and leaped on Brian. “No! Miss Cluck!” 

Brian yelped. John wasn’t nearly strong enough to knock a vampire on the floor, so he just hung around Brian’s neck like a large fierce monkey, tugging and grabbing on Brian’s hair and clothes.

“Darling!” Freddie exclaimed and caught John to drag him away. With a loud tearing noise Brian’s shirt ripped, and a piece stayed in John’s hand.

“No!” John screamed desperately and wrestled Freddie. Tears started running down his face. “No!”

“Freddie!” Brian gasped. “I think he wants the chicken!”

“Darling, then give it to him, for fuck’s sake, he’s ruining my- oh, Deaky, stop it! Stop it or I drop you! And you give him the chicken!”

“But he can’t eat it!”

“GIVE HIM THE CHICKEN, BRIAN!”

At the same time, both vampires let go of their catches, John darted to a corner and curled up there, while Miss Cluck strutted proudly in front of him. Only the look of her informed the vampires that next time there’d be no prisoners. 

“Darling, your sleeve is all ruined.”

“Freddie...,” Brian looked at his husband, searching for any clues what to do. 

“What about you read the book once again,” Freddie offered, “and I talk to Elton? He and David asked me for a drink at least three times last week. We can have a good time and ask about this little trouble.”

Brian shook his head. “You go alone. I think... I should stay here. Make him get used to me.”

“As you wish, my darling,” Freddie leaned in for a soft kiss, smiling, “but you should get out more. One would think I live with a hermit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brian promised, getting another of Freddie’s bright smiles as a reward.

“Don’t worry, Brimi,” Freddie glanced to the corner where John just reached for Miss Cluck to pet her, “we.... aww, isn’t this adorable... we will do this. There’s nothing what team Mercury-May can’t do.”

“Nothing we can’t do,” Brian smiled warmly. “Say hello to Elton for me.”

“Will do, darling.”


	3. Of Milk and Tequila

Just after Freddie disappeared into the night to meet Elton, Brian left John’s room and went down to fix himself a drink. Deep in thought, upset and disturbed. He hadn’t been exactly sure what to expect when he’d gotten the human. He never knew much about them, at least not more than what any normal vampire did. But he knew he had to help him. He had to save him. 

Granted, many of the rich vampires kept their own humans to ensure a supply of fresh blood right from the source, free of preservatives or artificial colouring. Nothing unusual in Freddie’s circle of friends. But Elton or David didn’t find their pets dying on a floor of a blood farm. And they had no intention of getting close to them. And to finally understand...

Brian sighed, painfully aware he was procrastinating. But he was nervous, dear god, how much. He needed to do this right. From the looks of Deaky, there’d be no second chances if Brian messed up, so much was clear.  
But how... 

Enough, he decided after catching himself staring out of a window for the last half an hour. Wake up, Brian. You try, you see, you adjust. And... God, don’t let me screw this up.

“Deaky?” 

The door creaked when Brian stepped into the room, holding a cup of hot milk. Some books on human husbandry he’d read recommended dairy to prevent anaemia.

“Deaky, it’s Brian, I’m coming in!”

The room stayed silent, but Brian could hear John’s muffled breaths coming from under the table. The human had crouched in the limited space, huddled in a ball, hugging his knees and hiding his face. The chicken was there too, perching on the desk, and her yellow eyes stared at Brian, daring him to do anything that could even remotely hurt her chick.

Brian hesitated, and sat down on the ground. Miss Cluck kept watching.

“I know you can understand me, Deaky...,” Brian said quietly, “there’s no reason you wouldn’t. I would really like you to talk to me. You’re scared, I understand. This is a new place for you and everything. Back there, in the farm... I’m so sorry.... so sorry all this happened to you. It’s wrong, it’s all wrong. But now it’s over. I promise, I’m going to take care of you.”

John’s reaction wasn’t exactly what Brian hoped for. The human didn’t turn around, he didn’t even relax. If anything, he tensed even more, shivering and muttering a single word over and over.

Brian frowned. “No? Deaky... why not? What are you saying no to, what’s going on?”

“No, no, no, no, no...”

“Deaky,” Brian put a bit more emphasis in his words, “you need to talk to me. Look at me. Now, look at me.”

Direct command. John’s shivers turned into full blown sobs, but he obeyed and looked up.

Like us... and not like us, Brian was fascinated. Human features were more of less the same, even though John lacked the ice-cold, untouchable beauty of the vampire race. Somewhat pale, true, but not in the right way. Cries left the gaunt face puffy and blotched, covered in wetness John didn’t bother to wipe away. His eyes were passive when they met with Brian’s, just expecting whatever blow might come.

“Look at you, Deaky,” Brian whispered, “our little fighter. You looked like death the first time I saw you. I think they wouldn’t even let me buy you if they thought you had a chance to survive. We’ll prove them wrong, Deaky, won’t we. You’ll show them. We’re going to do great things...” 

He wasn’t sure if the human even listened. Unfocused grey eyes were flickering around the room, avoiding him.

“Deaky-“

“I’m good!” John suddenly gasped and few more tears fell down his cheeks. “Please... please, I’m good...”

Brian frowned in worry and tried to sound comforting. “Of course. Of course, you are. So good, Deaky.”

John’s expression changed back from alarmed to resigned and his shoulders sagged when he extended his arm towards Brian, the inner side up. Offering.

Brian’s eyes widened. No, this... this wasn’t what he meant, this wasn’t what he wanted, not at all! He told Deaky he was good... good enough to be used again. Good enough to be drained. To be put to work. Great job, Brian.

“Deaky, no, that’s not... I won’t do that,“ he said firmly and shifted himself a bit closer to John. “No one will ever do that to you. Ever again. You’re here so we can take care of you.”

That didn’t seem to calm John down in the slightest. If anything, he looked even more distressed and pushed his arm so close it nearly touched Brian’s nose.

“I’m good!” he sniffled, and his eyes filled with fresh tears. “I don’t... no... please... you can take blood, don’t kill me...”

Brian drew himself back as if burned. “What?”

He searched to get some more clues from John’s face, but the human slowly stiffened, like a small rabbit in front of a rifle, just staring bluntly. He ignored even Miss Cluck who hopped down from the table, giving Brian the “are you happy now” stare and started to nibble on the hem of John’s sock. 

The cogs in Brian’s head were turning so fast they could as well catch fire. Was this what Deaky expected to happen? Of course, he did. Draining or death. As long as he was good enough to be drained, he wouldn’t die. No other options. At least... not until now.

“Deaky...,” Brian whispered without some visible effect, “you will live, do you hear me? And I won’t touch you, no one will, ever again. Deaky, you don’t... don’t have to be afraid of me.” 

John remained unresponsive and only his eyes fluttered when he slowly fell over and collapsed on the floor.

“Deaky!” Brian quickly reached for the unconscious human and dragged him from under the table, trying to ignore Miss Cluck freaking out and jumping around. 

John was completely limp, and his skin shouldn’t have this ashen, clammy look for sure. Brian scooped him in his arms.

Slowly, very slowly, John started to become more and more aware of himself. He didn’t know where he was or what happened, but that complete confusion wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar feeling. The one new thing though...

His head was resting on a pillow that was strangely cold and something moved in his hair. A hand, a hand running through his hair. John was taken aback by the softness of the touch. At least it intrigued him to fight the black haze and force his eyes open.

There was a long pale face surrounded by a crazy mass of brown curls. Suddenly, everything came back. The room. The table. The vampire.

John sat up with a shriek and tumbled to the other end of the sofa. How-how did he even get back up there?

“Deaky!” Brian exclaimed and reached out to catch his human, but he stopped himself soon enough, keeping hands in the air. “Be careful,” he said, trying for softer and calmer tone, “you’re sitting on the edge. What about you lie down again?”

When John seemed unwilling, distrust written all over his alert face, Brian sighed and stood up from his seat.

“Here. All yours,” he smiled. “Better?”

John didn’t say anything, but yes, better. Despite that, his breathing was still fast and shallow.

“You’re unwell, Deaky,” Brian said kindly. “I’ve brought you some milk. It’s in the cup on the table. For you.”

Maybe... maybe the vampire was right, John contemplated. He really didn’t feel well, his head was dizzy and his skin both burned and cooled. Small black dots danced in front of his eyes, so he closed them again. Milk? What was...?

Oh. John felt a cold edge of a cup pressed to his lips and only thanks to the surprise he gave in and drank. It was... good. Something like water but not quite. Not at all, actually. He whined when the last droplet rolled over his tongue.

“More?” he peeped and opened his eyes again, just to see Brian sitting back on the sofa.

“I’ll get more,” Brian smiled, and John watched the hazel eyes lit up. Was the vampire happy? But... “Tell me if you need anything else, Deaky. Anything at all. And I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

John frowned and hesitated before asking: “Why?”

Brian’s grin now revealed his sharp fangs. “Because I want us to be friends,” he said.

Well... John wasn’t really sure what was that supposed to be about but... it would mean more milk, right? Right?

He swallowed, glancing at the empty cup. “Friends?” he asked.

Brian nodded. “Friends.”

“Okay.”

The second Freddie stepped in, he was welcomed by the familiar smell of undead bodies, confined spaces, blood and alcohol. He smiled. The bar was hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the live rock music that dominated the atmosphere. The shaded room opened his eyes all the wider, he saw the muted colours of the bottles and the glitter that found every spark of light. 

“Welcome to Escarlata, Mr. Mercury,” the bouncer smiled and took his coat. Freddie wasn’t an unknown figure there. Before he and Brian settled into more domestic lifestyle, he’d been able to spend nights and days just dancing, drinking and celebrating after a successful tour. Ah, the wild decades.

Freddie smiled. “Thank you, darling, it’s nice to be back. David and Elton-“

“They’ve already arrived. I’m sure they’ll be delighted to see you.”

Rock’n’roll music flooded around Freddie like a breath of vibrant air as he stepped further into the club and the crowd and darkness fully embraced him. Only now he realized it was Friday, when he looked at the stage, the only day Escarlata showed off their greatest attraction. No wonder there were so many vampires tonight.

“Melina!” 

Freddie turned around and saw Elton in a sparkly green suit bouncing on his seat and waving. David Bowie was there too, right next to him, his suit maybe less flashy, but what colours he lacked in fabric he compensated in eye make-up.

They warmly welcomed the third member of their little get-together when Freddie sat down between them.

“Oh, Sharon, dear, what are you wearing?” Freddie teased. “You look as if a toad swallowed a disco ball.”

“The most fabulous toad, sweetheart,” Elton winked, not at all offended.

Bowie snickered. “Sniffing porphyrin again, aren’t we?” 

Elton only waved his hand and then all three focused on the stage. The band was quite good, and Freddie enjoyed the music, but what drew everyone’s attention wasn’t as much the song as the singer. He was undeniably good looking, blue eyes, blonde hair, raspy voice. And he was human.

Into the shadows  
From out of the light,  
Into the darkness  
And into the night,  
We're off the tracks  
We're off the lines  
You and me seen better times  
Now we're on the borderline  
And I wish I wasn't here-

Elton shook his head, hiding a smile. “He’s really something else, isn’t he?”

“One’d never guess they could do anything like that,” Bowie whispered. “What do you think, Freddie?”

“Brian thinks they all could do this and more,” Freddie opposed quietly, while his eyes didn’t leave the singer for even a second, “given an opportunity.”

Bowie chuckled. “With all the respect to your husband and his hobbies, Fred, I know a little something about humans and I’m telling you – Roger and those few others, they’re something special. Foster’s done a great job training them.”

Take your children while you can  
But there's nowhere you can run  
No more tears and no more fun  
Someday soon they'll drop the big one  
No more dad and no more mum  
This is a strange frontier...

Freddie didn’t answer. Honestly, he couldn’t deny the glaring difference between the mute, shy and incoherent little thing Brian got himself from the blood farm and the blond-haired star of Escarlata. Roger was topless, dressed in tight leather booty shorts and several tight bracelets and bands constricting the blood flow in his arms and legs so all the veins popped out, nice and visible. The pale skin had been cut open on several places, so as the show progressed and Roger got heated and sweaty, everyone in the room could smell his blood flowing out in thickening dark streams. It was... something else. Primal and animalistic, bringing out the basic instincts in all the visitors, and they loved it. Freddie got hungry just watching him. His fangs ached of just how much he wanted to bite.

“What about we get some drinks?” he mumbled in Elton’s ear.

He wasn’t the only one with the idea, it seemed like all the tables started placing their orders and the area around the bar was packed.

Elton giggled. “If you want, darling, but if I were you, I wouldn’t want to get my stomach full just yet. I booked something special.”

“Awww, you’re spoiling me, Sharon,” Freddie purred. He knew what “something special” at Escarlata meant. 

... Feel like I'm playing my role but it fits too tight.  
Watch my life go by in black and white.  
When times are hard and times are rough  
Then you better be made of sterner stuff.  
Sometimes I feel like a man on fire,  
Sometimes I feel like a man possessed,  
Sometimes I want to burn down this crazy town!

The last song ended, and the air was immediately filled with clapping, cheering and a soft sound of slurps and guzzling from the tables that already got their drinks. But many knew the main fun was still to be had.

Roger quickly disappeared from the stage. After the cleaners wiped his blood from the floor, a normal band of vampires came and started playing some harmless tunes for those in a mood for dancing. Freddie stopped paying attention to them.

“So?” Bowie asked impatiently and nearly strained his neck to see at the dark door leading to staff area. “Who are we having?”

Elton winked. “So impatient. And anyway – vodka, whiskey?”

“Tequila?” Freddie suggested and the idea was met with a cheery approval. They ordered a full bottle.

Finally, the red door opened, and waiters dragged out several humans, all very scantily clad and cut in all the right places. Roger was one of them, and to Freddie’s delight, the blond was directed right to their table.

He tripped over his own feet on the way once or twice but kept a bright smile. Freddie noticed the human’s skin was still pale, sticky and covered in sweat from the show but honestly, he didn’t care all that much. He just smelled so good.

“Good eeevening,” Roger slurred a bit and wavered to the side. Freddie had heard Foster kept his humans on some drugs or whatever, keeping them nice and calm for the guests. Maybe that was for the best. He recalled Brian’s new Deaky and the chicken fight from earlier and glanced back at docile and radiant Roger standing in front of them. This was much better. 

Roger’s pupils covered almost the whole iris.

“Come here, Roger,” Elton said and tapped on the table. The human sat there obediently, and Freddie couldn’t resist licking a cooling stream of blood from one of Roger’s wounds. Too good to waste.

In the meantime, their tequila arrived. Bowie immediately poured a big shot and pushed the glass in Roger’s hands.

“Drink it. Now.”

And Roger did. Not that he needed to be told what to do. This was a night like any other for him. That’s what he was.

After a second shot, Roger started to sway a bit more and his cheeks got flushed. After the third one, he started to hum some melody... and after the fifth one, he couldn’t really hold himself sitting up anymore and fell flat on his back on the wooden desk.  
There were shackles attached to each corner of the table in case drunk humans got some ideas, but that wasn’t needed with Roger. He was a happy drunk and more than used to the booze.

Elton leaned forward to sniff him in excited expectations. 

“I think he might be ready.”

“Perfect, darling.” Freddie felt a pang of regret Brian wasn’t with them that night. They used to share the drunken shenanigans... But not since he got into all that saving humans kind of stuff. He left everything they had for that. Nights out, friends, the band... Freddie felt kind of lost from him too sometimes, even though he’d rather bite his own tongue off than admit it.

“Melina? All good?”

“Of course,” Freddie flashed Elton a smile. “All’s perfect. Shall we?”

After some polite disagreements, they assigned Freddie the honorary spot of left carotid artery, so he moved to Roger’s head.

“....ugh...etty...,” Roger slurred, his gaze clouded and completely unfocused. Freddie was gonna get so hammered... “...etty e-ease... ease o... no...”

Freddie bit down, feeling the milky skin breaking under his fangs. The sudden ease when he got into the artery. Hot blood flooded his mouth and he sucked.  
Soon enough the warm and familiar buzz of alcohol got into his system. This was going to be a great night.


	4. Nothing Wrong

Brian woke up and nearly bumped his head against the lid of his coffin. Quickly, he pushed it aside. It was still early, he could feel the sun outside, but with all the house’s windows covered and secured, there was nothing to fear.

Not the sunshine anyway.

Brian shivered, trying to shake away the unease his dream brought. Again. Coming back like a thief, taking away his precious sleep.  
Shortly, he glanced at the coffin with his husband. They shared it often, obviously, and Freddie wouldn’t mind if Brian snuggled to him in the middle of the day but... Brian recalled his dream with a taste of bitterness... Freddie wasn’t what he needed. Who he needed.

“Deaky?”

Brian knocked in the door and waited for an answer. He heard the familiar sound of their human’s light steps, closing windows and drawing the heavy curtains to block the sun. 

“Come in!” 

The room had been lit by a tall lamp instead of a sunlight when Brian entered, though he could still smell the natural warmth and fresh air. Deaky had been sitting on the ground, with Miss Cluck probably perching by his side as usual, as and there were several music magazines spread all over the rug. But now, John stood quietly, waiting for Brian to do whatever he came for. It’s been an incredible progress and Brian felt proud, but still... he felt there was more in his Deaky, so much more than this quiet, obedient and pliant companion.

“I just...,” Brian hesitated. “I needed to see you.”

John nodded. “You had the dream again,” he guessed. 

“I don’t know why it’s still coming back, I don’t understand...,” Brian closed the door and walked over to the sofa, where he collapsed. John sat down by his side and softly hugged the cold shoulders. This wasn’t the first time, not in the slightest, and the human already knew what his master wanted and needed to be happy.

“Do you want to talk?” John asked.

Brian nodded. “Please. But... not about that dream. I...,” his eyes flickered around, as if looking for a conversation topic, any topic. “... I see you’ve looked at the magazines I gave you. Do you like them?”

“I do,” John smiled and reached out to grab one from the ground. “I like this one. What do the letters say? Will you read?”

Brian took the paper and smoothened it against his legs. “You like this one? What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” John made sad eyes. “Please, Brian?”

“Very well,” Brian conceded with a smile. “This is an article about the new bass model, listen carefully. It’s certainly true that the innovative electric guitars introduced by Fender —the Telecaster and the Stratocaster, plus the Jazzmaster changed the way music was created and experienced. So too with the great Fender amps of the decade.”

As instructed, John listened carefully and didn’t even breathe, but after the first short article, Brian interrupted the reading anyway. John frowned. He expected this, though he’d hoped the reading would’ve had lasted longer. Still, better than nothing. John reminded himself not to be greedy.

“You’re so good to me, Deaky, you know,” Brian said quietly, looking down. “Are all of you like that?”

John didn’t know an answer to that. He exchanged glances with Miss Cluck. She didn’t know either.

“Sometimes... it feels like you’re the only one who understands me,” Brian continued urgently and turned closer to the human. “You know the secret. You know... something, something I think we’ve forgotten, long time ago.”

Do I? John wondered, but all his thoughts were cut short when Brian reached over and caressed him, feeling the hot blood flowing under the skin.

“So... peculiar...,” Brian sighed, trailing John’s torso slowly up and down until he stopped right over the heart and pushed himself even closer, snuggling John into an embrace.  
John wasn’t really a fan of this groping, the cold touch and a vampire so close, but he wouldn’t do anything to upset Brian. He understood well that this new good life stood and fell with his master’s affections. So, he stayed still.

“You’re tired,” John said quietly, leading Brian to lie down on his lap. Today had the same scenario as many days before.

“Yes...,” Brian sighed and let himself be laid without question. “Things lately... they’re difficult, Deaky, so difficult... And Freddie’s not happy. He won’t say why but I can tell. Why can’t others be like you?”

John wasn’t sure. The more he thought about it, the less he could see a problem. He did only what Brian wanted – everyone could do that. He sighed and ran his fingers through the mass of curls in his lap. Maybe if Brian fell asleep deep enough, he could return to the magazines. He wished he could read.

“Will it be okay, Deaky?” Brian asked quietly, spread on the couch, head settled on John’s lap, ready to sleep.

“It will,” John promised. He wasn’t sure what Brian was talking about and he didn’t care that much. He just knew what he was supposed to say. “All will be well.”

“Brian?” 

Sharp voice caused the sleepy vampire to jump up from John’s lap.

“F-Freddie,” Brian stammered, “what are you doing awake?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Freddie leaned against the doorframe and his dark silk robe rustled. “Maybe searching for a reason why you got up in the middle of the day again. Also searching for you, though – that’s never difficult.”

Bitter undertones in that remark made Brian frown and get up. 

“What do you mean?” he asked and folded his arms on his chest, pale face frowning.

Freddie spread his hands in a dramatic gesture. “Do I need to even answer that? Do you think I enjoy waking up every evening next to an empty coffin only to find you snuggled to the human?”

“His name is Deaky!” Brian retorted. 

“As if I wouldn’t know! Deaky this! Deaky that! Humans here, humans there, Team Human everywhere!”

“They deserve to be fought for, Freddie!” Brian left John on the sofa and walked towards his husband, his face anxious and urgent. “Team Human has more important job than ever before. There is a bill going to be handed over to the Parliament, a bill that would allow vampires to cull those few last wild human colonies left, just like that, not even for food! And you’re telling me to let it be? I thought you didn’t mind, you promised you didn’t mind!”

“I said nothing when you started spending hours in your study, doing hours and hours of work for that Team of yours, darling,” Freddie stopped him quietly. “I supported you and I’ll always support you. I said nothing a year later when you announced you quit the band to spend more time saving humans. I said nothing about every single cancelled plan or... forbidden bloodbrand or... when you told me to put Tiffany and Delilah into one room so this one could go to Deaky! But something else is bothering you and I’m worried, darling. You must know that.”

Brian glanced away and his eyes followed an intricate pattern of the carpet. “There’s nothing,” he said flatly. “Just the usual worries. And the cull, of course.”

“This has been going on for a while now,” Freddie said and nearly ignored Delilah who snuck around his feet, “long before the cull. I can’t just watch you and do nothing, Brian, and if you can’t tell me what’s wrong with you-”

“There’s nothing wrong with me!” Brian snapped. “Why would you even-”

“Because I know you! We’ve been married for the last ninety years for fuck’s sake! You can’t share with me, but with him you can?” He pointed at John who huddled on the sofa into a tighter ball.

“Leave him out of this!”

“Like hell!” Freddie screamed and stormed out of the room. They could hear him thumbing down the stairs.

It was early evening, the sun already down.

“Freddie!” Brian exclaimed and wanted to run straight after him but- “No, Delilah!” he hurried after the cat who was sneaking up on Miss Cluck, ready to leap.

When Brian finally got downstairs, fussing Delilah in his arms, Freddie was already dressed in a flashy suit and a coat, taking his wallet and keys.

“Are you going out?” Brian frowned while asking the obvious.

Freddie scoffed. “Don’t tell me it makes any difference to you.”

“Of course, it does!” Brian made several quick steps towards him. “Freddie, I love you, I do, just... the situation isn’t simple.”

“I know,” Freddie said quietly. “I’m asking why. All this business with humans... it’s killing you, Bri. You need to keep some distance, it’s not worth it.”

Brian drew a sharp breath and his shoulders shuddered. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

Freddie nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. Don’t take me wrong, all the mistreatment and... culls and... bloodfarms or whatever, they’re terrible things, but you’re not personally responsible for this – it’s not your problem to solve. In the end – they’re just humans. They don’t mind the way we would. They’re not like us, and by treating Deaky the way you do you’re only confusing yourself as well as him. He’s a cute pet, I understand, but it’s ridiculous to think he can ever be more than that. They’re just humans. So, what about you put some of your focus from their lives to ours?”

Brian didn’t answer, at least – not straight away. Instead, he slowly put Delilah back on the ground, turning his face away from his husband.

“I believe you wanted to go out,” he said at last. “Have fun, I’m going to sleep.”

Freddie brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. “In your coffin or in Deaky’s room?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Brian said, and his tone was frozen. “But don’t let me keep you. Go.”

Freddie banged the door behind him.

It rained that night.

The bouncer at Escarlata welcomed him as an old friend, and Freddie sorrowfully realized how frequent guest had he become during the last months – since the little human joined their household.

Brian was obsessed! Yes, that’s the right word. Obsessed, Freddie thought grumpily. He would love to kick something, but he couldn’t risk ruining his new shoes. Even upset, you can’t let your appearance slip out of control. It was his money-maker, after all. Because as everybody knows, the music is only one half of the magic. The show is the other.   
At this hour Escarlata wasn’t as full of guests as it would normally be, but here and there Freddie could see vaguely known faces, mostly drunk as a skunk. Music wasn’t live that day, but the air was slightly vibrating with some known melody from Fangs ‘n Roses.

Freddie collapsed into a deep velvet booth, and decided he just wanted to drink until passing out. And the blondie was always so sweet.

“Good evening, Mr. Mercury, what can I get you?” the waiter quickly approached with a smile.

“A bottle of vodka,” Freddie said, his handsome face glum, “and Roger.”

The waiter shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re out of-“

“Then get gin, tequila, whatever!”

“The vodka isn’t the problem,” the waiter shrugged, looking apologetic, “but we don’t have Roger anymore. Can I offer you-”

“Don’t have Roger?” Freddie repeated and finally looked up. “What do you mean you don’t have Roger? You always have him.”

“There’s only a certain span of time when the humans meet the standards of this establishment and... then we’re forced to take them off the menu. It’s a standard procedure, Mr. Mercury, no need to worry our other bleeders would be anything but top quality. Can I offer you-“

“What’s wrong with him?” Freddie asked quietly, interrupting the waiter once again. “I want him, whatever is-“

“We don’t have him anymore, Mr. Mercury,” the waited said impatiently, losing the smooth, polite tone, “now please, could you pick anything we do have on the menu?”

“Is he dead?”

Strange. Humans dying of excessive draining or chronic anaemia was quite a common thing an no one thought twice about it, but suddenly... Freddie felt uneasy.

“I don’t know,” the waiter said shortly. “But if you wish, sir, I could inquire from the manager.”

“No need,” Freddie decided and got up. “I’ll speak to him myself.”

“Aaaah yes, little Roger,” Ray Foster sighed and sat down deeper in his chair. The lavish office smelled faintly of blood – a sign Foster enjoyed his own merchandise. “You’re lucky you caught me here at this hour, Mr. Mercury. I might ask you to sign some of my CDs later.”

“Of course,” Freddie smiled politely. “Wouldn’t that be lovely, darling. So... Roger?”

“He was a good one, wasn’t he,” Foster said, and his fangs glistened in the artificial light. “All of my little stars are born and bread for the job, but he was really one of the best. Only rarely we get such combination of talent and taste. You surely know what’s the best.”

“So, he’s no longer here?”

Foster shrugged. “Unfortunately. They don’t last forever.”

“So, he’s dead?” Freddie repeated. If Roger was dead... Freddie considered himself an aesthete – and an appraiser of talent. He recalled Roger’s porcelain complexion, energy and shining smile when he got a bit tipsy. His heart clenched. For all Roger did... this wasn’t fair. An end like this wasn’t fucking fair.

“Most possibly, yes, he’s dead by now,” Foster said. “But I’m sure you can make a new pick in our wide selection of-“

“How do you mean possibly?” Freddie snapped. “I’m no expert on humans but even I recognize a dead one.”

“Our establishment can’t spend finances on humans that aren’t expected to make profit anymore. That includes veterinary or funeral costs. We let him go.”

“He was sick, so you tossed him on the street? Just like that?” Freddie jumped up, grinding his teeth. “How- bloody- dare you! You’re a villain, a fucking leech, and you bet I’ll sue you for...” here he hesitated. “For....”

Foster smiled kindly. “Mr. Mercury, I understand he was your favourite, but that’s how the world works. We did nothing wrong. And humans – they don’t take it that way.”

“I’ll sue you anyway!” Freddie decided, frowning. “I’ll have my husband sue you! His team will push some bill or whatever in the Parliament and you’ll think twice before doing “nothing wrong” ever again!”

He stormed off, fuming. Too bad, he had liked Escarlata. But he’d never go there again. Never ever. Freddie was known to make angry, spontaneous choices, but he was a man of principle as well. He’d never do Foster the pleasure of getting his money again.

Freddie saw red.

“Brian!” he called angrily upon getting back home and banged the door shut. “Brian!”

“In here!” 

His husband was in the kitchen, just pouring himself some breakfast, and looked worried when Freddie emerged like a god of revenge.

“Freddie...,” Brian mumbled, “I’m sorry if you get a feeling that-“

“Tell me,” Freddie interrupted him and started pacing over the kitchen, “what happens with humans on the street?”

Brian frowned, but decided not to ask about the thought process leading to that question. 

“They don’t live long,” he said quietly. “Either starve or get caught by someone who doesn’t reject an easy meal – and vamps like that often enjoy drinking over the edge. Or... there are those gangs who procure illegal drugs. They’re always in need of fresh humans.”

Freddie gulped and looked up. “And if the human in question is sick?”

“Then he’s as good as dead,” Brian looked at his husband’s face more attentively. “Freddie? What happened?”

“I need you to make a call or blow the horn or whatever you guys do,” said Freddie resolutely. “Someone needs you.”


	5. Angels

The street was covered in mud and more water fell from the dark night clouds every second. All the vampires were up and about, the city swarmed and flickered with lights, but naturally, there were dirty corners and hideouts where no one ever looked. That’s where Roger hid after they threw him from the bar on a dirty pavement. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that was what they did. He wasn’t the first, he wouldn’t be last. He wasn’t of value after all. Not anymore.

Fuck and dammit to hell.

He’d known this day would come. But... he’d never expected to be as much not ready to die as he was. His whole body burned, he was too weak to walk, his head was hazy and spinning – but he wanted to live! Roger clenched his teeth and tears run out from his eyes. He just wanted to live...

***

He waited for the sunlight and then crawled out from between two large trash bins where he’d hidden for the night. He didn’t know where he was or where to go, not to mention where to get food – but that didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry anyway, just parched. Roger threw himself into the small muddy pool of rainwater that was left on the pavement and drank, gulping it loudly until his nose hit the bottom. The water left a disgusting aftertaste and no matter how much Roger drank, he was thirsty.

“Help...,” he whimpered and closed his eyes, whole body drenched in sweat feeling the cobbles under him. “Help...”

Even now, he knew no one would come. This was the end after all. He felt heavy and every movement was an agony. But no. No. He would live. He must live! Why, he wasn’t sure. Slowly, very slowly... he crawled back between the bins.

“Hey... hey – smell that!”

Roger heard a voice from somewhere far, far away. Pain that ran through his whole body assured him he was still alive. The fog in his eyes somehow refused to go away even though he winked and winked and he couldn’t be sure where was up or down.  
Someone grabbed his shoulder and dragged him from behind the bins. Roger whimpered.

“Oooh, nice one. One use, as I see it, but that’ll do.”

The hands didn’t let go of him, on the contrary, they scooped him up. Then Roger fainted, knowing, when his vision went dark that this time for sure he died.

***

“Who’s a good chicken?” John chittered at Miss Cluck perching on his lap and held out a piece of bread. The timepiece on the wall showed some 4 o’clock in the morning, but he didn’t feel tired. Often the draperies on his windows remained drawn for days while John stayed up later and later in night and snoozed during the late morning hours. 

Miss Cluck let out a chirp, clearly saying: “I’ll put up with this nonsense for few more minutes but just because I like you”.

John fed her the bread.

“Now. Now. That’s a good chicken. Do you want to see guitars again?” 

He picked up one of his magazines. The pages were already worn from being turned over and over but John didn’t have much else there to do. He didn’t mind, honestly. His modest living in the guest room was incomparable to the blood farm. He felt himself getting stronger and rested better than ever. Not to mention Brian was getting increasingly better in deciding what could be used as dinner for a human. So... what now?

John tapped a small rhythm against his thigh and tore another piece of bread from his slice with a cheeky grin.

“So- do you want another? Oh, I know you do. Such a good chick. Come on, let’s get it- come on- come on- a bit higher-”

His eyes snapped towards the door, he heard voices – and the door burst open and Brian and Freddie walked in. John quickly retreated to his corner. This was something unusual. Are they going to drink from him now? Take him away? Was he not good?

“- so let’s just put him right here,” Brian said and nodded to Freddie, who carried something. Someone.

They laid the motionless, unconscious figure on the sofa. 

John perked up, though he couldn’t see over the armrest, especially as Miss Cluck refused to move from there. The chicken only let out a chirp of protest when Brian took John’s blanket and wrapped it around the newcomer.

“He’ll have to stay here, for now,” Freddie frowned and looked up at his husband. “Are you sure we can’t get a vet right now? Why wait?”

“It’ll soon be light,” Brian said quietly. “And to be honest...,” he reached over Freddie to touch the clammy forehead. “If he’s to die before tomorrow, no vet would be able to help him now anyway, but you can smell that yourself. He’ll get it out of his system, then we’ll see. Deaky?”

John glanced at Brian when addressed and got up. “Yes?”

“You take care of him,” Brian said. “I’ll bring you breakfast for the both of you. If anything happens, cover the windows and come wake us. Do you understand?”

John nodded, though he wasn’t really that sure what to do. But Brian seemed satisfied and ushered Freddie, who didn’t give John even half-a-glance, out of the room.   
The door behind them shut.

John gave it few seconds, when suddenly the intruder on his sofa whimpered, and Miss Cluck gave him a look of “you’re coming or what”?  
He did. The newcomer didn’t seem dangerous nor having some evil intentions. Or maybe he did but couldn’t move anyway. To be honest, what drove John away wasn’t so much the danger as was the smell. A smell of someone rotting alive – he knew that from the farm well enough.

John crooked his nose, but still made the last three steps around the sofa to have a look.

The other human wasn’t like anyone John had seen before. Pale and delicate, blond hair framing a soft face... John swallowed, his eyes fixed on the man. There was something he didn’t know, he didn’t understand, but he wanted to smile and cry both at once and he felt out of breath as if something crushed his lungs in an iron fist.

He couldn’t stop looking at that face.

The blond whimpered again and his whole body shook in a tremor. He was covered in dry blood, mud and garbage, while his forehead glistened with sweat. He must’ve been in pain, too, that much was clear. John was clueless, clueless and confused, but still... it wouldn’t hurt to get the other human clean first, would it?

John’s room had its own adjoining bathroom with some ehm... human necessities Brian had added for John’s convenience. Miss Cluck watched carefully how her little human-chick poured warm water into a bucket and headed back to the sofa with some clean washcloths and towels.

“Now...,” John mumbled and kneeled next to his guest, “let’s get you out of those clothes...”

He saw no problem in undressing, after all, most of his time at the farm he wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. Only in winter the farmers dressed them in woolly jumpers and socks to save money on central heating. He saw many people naked back then. But still... now, undressing this man... Something made it different. He was different. His body was lean, but not as gaunt as the ones from blood farms, it was clear someone used to take care of him. He also didn’t have scars from arterial draining John had, but a whole myriad of clean cuts and bites on his chest, arms and legs – some healed, some still tender and the last batch still half open and festering. John touched them softly with the cloth and his guest let out another whimper.

“Shhh...,” John hummed and moved to the blond’s head to start cleaning his face. It was bursting with fever and the hair framing it were wet. “Just... it’s alright, ok? Please, don’t die. Brian would be mad.”

Quickly, John continued in his work, scrubbing the dirt and sweat away, leaving nothing but clean skin and a soft lavender scent of his soap. Then... he couldn’t really dress the man back in what he’d been wearing (John was honestly puzzled, staring at the skimpy leather number) so he wrapped him in bathrobe Brian had given him some weeks ago. He hoped Brian wouldn’t mind, but honestly, he was the one who told John to take care of this new human, right? Right?

It seemed the cleaning and water did the sick man some good. John made another trip to the bathroom and made cold compresses for the feverish forehead and the cuts.

Then... he ran out of ideas. 

Brian had brought a breakfast for both, but John doubted this man would eat anything even if John fed him. Miss Cluck didn’t suggest anything either.

“Do you think he’s going to stay?” John asked the chicken. She didn’t give a definite answer. “I hope he is. But awake. Or do you think he-“

John froze. He knew at the farm, years ago when he’d lived with his mum, the farmers used to throw dying people into the children’s pen just to show what they do with disobedient humans. You misbehave... you die. He gasped, staring back at his guest’s pale face. 

“No...,” John stammered with a little sob. He couldn’t help it. “No, you can’t die, I’ve been good, I did everything Brian w-wanted...” He knew that wasn’t any guarantee. Maybe this was just Brian and Freddie making a point. “Please... please wake up...” He didn’t, but his chest was moving up and down with each laboured breath. John watched it for a while, then wrapped the blond back in his blanket like a human cocoon. 

Miss Cluck jumped from her perch on John’s lap with a look of silent anticipation. Then she glanced at the bread on the table, then back at John.

“Do you think I should give him bread?” John asked.

She chirped, looking mildly annoyed.

“Oh, you want the bread! Alright, yes, of course...” John reached for the bread when suddenly, the human-blanket cocoon moved and sighed.

John quickly leaned over to his face. “Yes? Are you awake? Please?” He studied the tender features, cheekbones and full lips when suddenly the eyes cracked open.

Not fully open, but just enough to see they were blue. The colour of day.

“Ughhh,” the blond man squinted, trying to focus. “W-hat... where...” His hand was restless on the covers, so John just took it without thinking.

That caught the man’s attention. Heavily, he lifted his arm and touched John’s face. Instead of the hard cold he expected, his fingers sunk into a warm softness.

“Who- ...,” it seemed he was losing his strengths, his arm weakening and lids heavy, “... you?”

“I’m John.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say, so he added quiet: “I’ll take care of you.”

The stranger seemed to calm down, blue eyes trusting and falling asleep.

“Who are you?”

“Mhm... Roger...”

Dawn was in less than an hour and both vampires were tired.

Brian leaned against the counter and poured himself a cup of blood from the fridge. “Now that we have him,” he said, “would you finally explain what this is about?”

“I already told you.” Freddie sat down by the table quite irritated by Brian’s tone, “what’s so hard to understand?”

“Oh, let me see.” Brian put the glass down. “You storm out of here after yelling at me that caring for humans is stupid, then few hours later you come running back, force me to call all my friends and drag us all out in the rain to search for one maybe-dead-human Roger, which we found – ten hours later in that dirty underground nest pumped with illegal heroin for which we had to pay and plus some extra to take Roger with us.”

“So now you’re counting?” Freddie raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t mind helping him,” Brian emphasized and put his empty glass on the counter. “No matter the cost. But... I need to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m an open book, darling.”

Brian didn’t say anything, only stared quizzically on his husband. “Is there something... something you’re not telling me? Why him- and only him?”

“I just... wanted to have him again,” Freddie said. “He’s a pearl among others, and the sweetest blood I’ve ever tasted.”

“We won’t drink from him, Freddie,” Brian frowned, “even if he recovers. Never.” 

“But-“

“My condition. He’ll treat him the way we treat Deaky.”

Freddie scoffed. 

“I can’t believe you!” Brian exclaimed. “You know he is dying-”

“I want him to get better, darling, calm down-”

“But for what? To suck him dry once he’s good to go?”

“What about Deaky?” Freddie folded his arms on his chest. “You keep him here, you spoil him and treat him – I could also ask for what!”

Brian’s lips tightened. “I have my reasons,” he said. “And we should go to coffin, it’s late.”

“To the coffin or to Deaky’s sofa?”

“Shut up, Freddie.”


	6. Disco Deaky

The vet appeared right on Monday in the early evening and John watched from his corner how the three vampires hovered over that strange other human he somehow managed to keep alive.

“... the best years behind him, as you can see,” the vet was just explaining to Brian and Freddie. “As you can see, the body is exhausted by the draining and frequent alcohol consumption only increased the damage. Even if we keep him alive, I’m afraid he’ll never be able to give as much blood in sufficient quality as he used to.”

“We understand,” Brian said. “But his blood doesn’t matter.”

The vet raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn’t comment the strange attitude of his clients any closer.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to achieve here,” he gestured to the sleeping figure, “but whatever it may be, I assure you, you’re in for a long ride – for human standards at least. In few weeks he might be ready as a donor for insemination.”

“Darling,” Freddie was losing his patience there. “Can you just prescribe him something to make him less dying? We’ll figure out the rest, thank you.”

The vet only sighed. “Of course, I can. As I said before, he’ll be of most use if you have him purified and drained dry. But... your decision.” He wrote several recipe forms and handed them to Brian. “Here. That’s all I can do.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

The vet gave a strange look to John in the corner and then quickly left the room, muttering something about vampires wasting his time.

“Darling, please, tell me this isn’t the only vet in town,” Freddie pleaded as he walked behind Brian down the stairs. 

“Of course not. He’s the best, though.”

“Is he?”

When they arrived in the living room, Brian sat down on the sofa, studying carefully the recipes for Roger’s medicines. 

“This shouldn’t be a problem to get,” he concluded. “I can pick it up at Peopco on my way to the Team meeting, but I expect that one to drag on till dawn, so... better for Roger if you go and get as soon as possible.”

Freddie shrugged. “I can. But don’t expect me to jump with happiness upon hearing I’ll be having my breakfast alone. Again.”

Brian got up and pressed a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “There were new wild human colonies discovered. We need to make a strategy, otherwise all those corporations convince the government to have them eliminated. They say they carry diseases and endanger our humans at blood farms.”

Freddie blinked. “And do they?”

“Does it matter?” Brian was already on his way out. “We need more information, conduct studies, and if there are diseases, we can vaccinate them. I mean, how is a blind cull of innocents even an option for Christ’s sake?”

“It’s not,” Freddie walked his husband to the door. “Go out there, dear, be your genius self-”

“Don’t for-“

“I’ll pick up the medicines for Roger, dear, don’t worry.”

“Yes, and-“

“I won’t forget to feed Deaky.”

“They-“

“I’ll have a bed moved from the other guest room for him, yes,” Freddie gave Brian a quick kiss to stop any more questions. “They’ll be fine, I promise.”

Brian maybe wanted to say something but changed his mind and disappeared into the night.

John was quite relieved when the vampires left the room and he could re-claim his place by Roger’s side. 

“John...,” Roger whispered and weakly reached out. His hand was frailty and caution, shaking gently.

John took it and warmed it between his own palms. “I’m here.”

Roger’s eyes sunken and his skin sallow, everything sagged, and his dry, fragile hair were falling out in small clumps clearly visible on the dark red pillow. He looked like a newly hatched bird, if John had ever seen one, spending the time since his arrival with constantly crossing the line between a conscious and an unconscious state. He didn’t know where he was or who was John, all he knew was that he survived, somehow, and that John felt safe and warm. He asked for nothing more, not now.

“Do you think he’ll wake up?” John turned to Miss Cluck when Roger’s eyes went blank again and his head tilted back.

The chicken chirped. So much for a definitive answer.

“I don’t know,” John shrugged. He didn’t have much experiences when it came to contact with other humans, at least since they took him from his mother and locked him to his own enclosure. He talked with his neighbours from time to time, not that they had many topics to discuss, but could never see them. Roger was different in every way. John found himself wanting more than an occasional hazy mumble, he wanted Roger to get better, even if just to see what would happen, what would he be like.

“Come, let’s eat,” John patted on the armrest of the sofa for Miss Cluck to hop on and offered her from her bowl of grains and potato peels. In his, slightly larger, bowl there was a bread, piece of cheese, and an apple. Happily, he munched on them and threw a worried glance on Roger’s bowl. Untouched.

“Hey,” John leaned over his patient and shook his shoulder. “You should eat the breakfast. They’ll take it away if you won’t and you stay hungry. Roger! Wake up!”

Roger stirred with a weak mumble, but John was relentless until the blue eyes opened wide.

“Food,” John announced. “You have to eat it.”

Gently, he supported Roger’s head and held the bread to his lips. “Eat.”

Roger made some valiant attempts, but he could barely open his mouth, not to mention bite. Soon, the strain was too much, and he seemed to be drifting back to sleep.

“Hey,” John shook him again. “Try this.”

“John...”

“Do it.”

Roger gave up and held his head when John softly placed his cup of milk close to his lips and tilted it just so a small stream poured in Roger’s mouth. And after some spilling and coughing, they succeeded, and Roger hungrily emptied both his and John’s cup. Then nothing could stop him from falling back asleep, and this time, John let him.

He needed more, John thought, but he also knew he never got milk to lunch or dinner, not to mention Roger could be hungry sooner than that. After a quick glance at Roger to make sure he was fast asleep, John made a decision and got up.

“Brian!” John pounded on the door. “Brian!”

He’d never called for the vampire like that before, but Brian had assured him he’d come whenever John needed. 

“Brian!”

No answer. 

Bad idea. Very very bad idea. Very very very bad idea, John repeated to himself as he slowly walked out of his room and down the stairs. He never left his room, not since they brought him to the house, and he wasn’t even sure he was allowed. His teeth chattered and he was shaking all over.

He’s been thinking it through for more than two hours. Bad idea. But Roger needed the milk and Miss Cluck promised she’d look after him until John returned from his quest. Well, sorts of promised.  
Quietly, John creeped down the staircase and into the main hall, holding his breath. He wasn’t sure where to find milk, he kind of hoped it would be somewhere just lying around, yet...

So many incredible things though! Things he’d never seen before. Things... things he’d never heard before. John knew music, Brian played guitar for him from time to time, but what he was hearing now from the living room couldn’t be more different. John felt drawn to it like a moth to a lamp. He’d forgotten his fears for a moment and slipped in through the half open door.

“... party is over  
and I'm left cold sober.  
Baby left me for somebody new.  
I don't wanna talk about it,  
want to forget about it.  
Wanna be intoxicated with that special brew...” 

Freddie was sitting at the piano, his eyes closed, completely engrossed in the music he was creating. John shivered upon hearing that voice, but it was a different kind of shiver, something caused by the raw emotion behind the song. He froze, unable to sneak away.

“Don't expect me  
to behave perfectly  
and wear that starry smile.  
My guess is I'm in for a cloudy and overcast.  
Don't try and stop me  
'cause I'm heading for that stormy weather soon... Deaky?”

John jumped back and hit himself against the doorknob. It hurt. Freddie got up from his stool and walked across the room. Was he mad? Will he punish him? Where is Brian?

“What are you doing here?” Freddie asked and got up.

“I-I’m sorry!” John stammered and stumbled back from the approaching vampire. Freddie was there in a flash and caught his arm.

“Darling-“

“Brian! Help!” 

“Deaky,” Freddie said firmly but his face was worried, “calm down. Please. I won’t hurt you, I swear.” He felt the human shaking under his touch like a leaf and let go of his arm.

John staggered a bit and stepped back, his eyes wide and frightened despite the reassurance.

“Do you need something, dear?” Freddie asked and also made a step back to widen their distance. It seemed to calm Deaky down.

“Brian?”

“Brian won’t be home tonight,” Freddie explained, “he’s out there doing things with his... club. He’s fighting for you, you know? For humans. He’s got that kind of passion about things.”

“Oh...,” John said, not sure of any other answer.

They just stared at each other for a while until John nearly jumped up when something furry touched his ankles.

“Delilah!” Freddie clicked his tongue and picked the cat up from the ground. “What is it, scaring Deaky like that?”

John tilted his head, watching the vampire in silk kimono coo to that furry ball. “This... is a cat?” he asked, just to be sure. Brian had shown him a picture in a book once.

“Yes, this is our Delilah,” Freddie grinned. “Do you want to hold her, dear?” And before John could say either yes or no, he got an armful of a cat. 

It was heavier than anticipated. John wasn’t sure how to hold it or what else to do, but Delilah seemed rather content. She started to rattle. John paled. Did he break the cat already?

“Aaaaw, she likes you,” Freddie smiled and pet both the cat and Deaky, in that order. “You look so cute together! Like two little bloodpies. Do you like her?”

“Yes,” John smiled, and it was actually quite genuine. 

“You can come down and pet the kitties whenever you like, dear,” Freddie announced proudly and gestured John to let Delilah back on the floor. “They have impeccable taste, and if they like something, so do I. Except for tuna, of course, and... maybe yarn. Do humans play with yarn?” He looked at Deaky with eager expectations.

“I... don’t know.”

“Here, darling,” Freddie made a beeline to a basket in the corner of the room, picked a large ball of blue yarn and placed it in the human’s hands. “All yours. It’s Tiffany’s least favourite, she won’t miss it.”

John bit his lip. “I... I need milk.”

“What now, darling?”

“Milk,” John repeated a bit firmer. “Roger can’t eat the food... but he drank his milk... and my milk... we need more.”

“Oh, of course,” Freddie smiled and beckoned John to follow him through the living room to the kitchen. “We have all the human food here, you see? Right next to tuna. Milk... milk... milk... oh, here. It looks like white blood.” He sniffed it. “Smells nothing like it. You better just take the bottle dear.”

He handed it to John, who quickly took it and clutched it like his own personal treasure.

“Here we go, darling,” Freddie closed the cupboard. “I’ve been to Peopco to pick up medicines for Roger. They say he should get a pill every morning, so we need to wait. How is he doing?”

“Asleep,” John shifted his legs, unsure should he excuse himself back upstairs. But... “What was the music?” he asked. “What you played?”

Freddie smiled. “Did you like it? Come dear.” Gently, he took John’s shoulder and led him back to the living room. “There’s actually something you might help me with... Oh, don’t worry, Miko and Delilah do it all the time... Here, sit.” He gestured John towards the large plush sofa and hurried towards the piano. “I’m putting together an album,” he explain, fingers on the keys already.

John blinked. “An album?”

“Yes, an album of songs, darling,” Freddie nodded, turning to face him. “I’m a singer, you know. We used to have a band, Brian and I, but then... he decided to go and save you instead.”

“Me?” John felt bad for knowing this was his fault.

“Oh no, not just you, darling,” Freddie waved his hand. “All of you. Humans. They have some really important meeting tonight. I just wish...”

“Yes?”

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Freddie turned back to the piano. “I love this one!" he announced. "It’s from the last album we did together with Brian. This thing called love, I just can't handle it! This thing called love, I must get round to it! I ain't ready! Crazy little thing called love. This thing called love, it cries in a cradle all night, it swings, it jives, it shakes all over like a jelly fish, I kinda like it!  
Crazy little thing called love!” Freddie stopped playing and turned around, his eyes widened in surprise. “You’ve got rhythm in you, darling,” he remarked, and John realized he’d been tapping his foot to rhythm that whole time.

“Sorry,” he looked down and hid his head deeper between his shoulders. “I... won’t do that again, I promise.”

“No, no, do it again, all you like,” Freddie waved his hands and laughed. “Go for it, dear, I love it!”

“Ohh...,” John’s brain somewhat short-circuited. “Okay...”

It was almost four in the morning, dawn should come in less than two hours, and Brian was tired. His legs felt heavy as he dragged them towards his home. It wasn’t as much the work he’d done that day, though there’d been a lot but... no. How could they. After everything...  
Brian felt his anger boil inside him like a hot stew. Helpless. Desperate. Tired. God, he was tired... He just wanted to sleep, and never wake up... not like everything he’d ever done mattered anything, even a little bit...

He opened the entrance door and the sound of loud music coming from the living room woke him up from the dark thoughts. Music and laughter. Did Freddie have a visit? Brian sighed, he really didn’t feel like socializing, he had enough vampires for the night.

Wait.

.... is pretty wild now  
The girl's a super freak  
The kind of girl you read about  
In the new wave magazines.  
That girl is pretty kinky  
The girl's a super freak...

Since when Freddie listened to Rick James? What the-

Brian pushed the door open. His first impression was he... he had to get in the wrong house. He had to! 

The stereo with “Super Freak” had been blasting on full volume and in the middle of the room there were Freddie and Deaky, both bopping and dancing to the rhythm among some empty blood sacks and cheese crackers. John was flushed and the look on his face... Brian had never seen him so utterly delighted.

“And give me a twirl, darling!” Freddie squealed and John was only happy to do so, laughing out loud. “And let’s go!”

“She's all right, she's all right  
That girl's all right with me yeah.  
She's a super freak, super freak,  
She's super freaky, super freak, super freak.  
Temptations sing, oh, super freak,  
Super freak, the girl's a super freak, OH!”

“Enough!” Brian exclaimed and it took him three long steps to stop the stereo. “What the fuck, Freddie!”

“Darling!” Freddie exclaimed with a smile, but it came out quite flat when the words met with Brian’s stone-cold face.

There was silence.

“Darling?”

“What the fuck, Freddie?” Brian repeated desperately and pointed on the mess everywhere. “What is this?”

“Just a little creative break, dear,” Freddie shrugged with a smile. “Deaky here wanted me to play some songs, then I put on some records and somehow... here we are. Aren’t we, Deaky, darling?”

John nodded. “I like disco,” he smiled.

Brian looked at him like John just grew a second head. “You like disco,” he repeated weakly. “What the fuck, Freddie...”

“I tried to have him interested in Aretha Franklin,” Freddie sighed, “but I guess he made his preference-“

“Oh, really!” Brian exploded. “Really?”

“Brian, calm-“

“I won’t calm down, Freddie!” 

John hunched. This wasn’t how he knew Brian... and it scared him. Brian threw his briefcase on the sofa and spread his arms in frustration as he stormed on.

“One night! I go away for one night, I come back and what do I find? Deaky – this Deaky – my Deaky – with you, just dancing around a-and singing because he likes disco?”

“Actually, darling, it’s John,” Freddie corrected him calmly. “His real name. He told me.”

“Well, isn’t this fantastic,” Brian rolled his eyes. “Bloody weeks, Freddie,” he hissed. “I tried for weeks to make him even look at me, to say at least a word! I gave up e-everything for humans, I’m the one who fucking saved you, JOHN!”

“Brian,” Freddie warned firmly when John clung on his arm. 

“You don’t talk to me!” Brian shrieked. “And you! Are you hiding from me? Really? You trust him over me, one night and you trust someone who’d suck you dry if I let him?”

“What do you want from me?” Freddie let go of John’s hand. “You nag me when I don’t like them, and you scream at me when I do?

“This is just a game for you, isn’t it? Just so fucking easy, you want something – you take it, just like that, and you don’t even begin to care about others!”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s mine!” Brian grabbed John and yanked him closer, so forcefully John nearly tripped. “But sure, you have him, have everything and be just so fucking happy go lucky!”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with me?” Brian cried out. “What’s so wrong with me that one... one night... in one night I’m not here... fuck...”

Freddie’s brows furrowed in concern when he stepped towards his husband. “Brian...”

“Don’t!” Brian turned away and covered his ears. “I won’t hear it! I- I can’t anymore, I... I’m done, just... Fuck you! Both of you! All three of you! You go to your room, Deaky, and you will not come out until I say so! Or so help me God I will lock you in!”

With that, Brian stormed out, holding John’s forearm tightly. Freddie caught only a glance at the shivering human. John’s face glistened with tears.


End file.
